


Call Me Maybe

by pierceplotholes



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Incest, It's FC3 so I really shouldn't have to warn about all the terrible shit that's in here, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Recreational Drug Use, also this isn't finished and I may or may not finish it DO NOT bother me about it, angry messages asking me to finish will never work they'll just piss me off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 18:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20511470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierceplotholes/pseuds/pierceplotholes
Summary: Just when Jason thought he was free of Vaas, he starts getting phonecalls from the fucker. Wrapped up in taking down Hoyt and saving his friends, finishing off a weak and isolated Vaas isn't high on his priorities. That is, until the 'crazy' things Vaas says start to make a little bit of sense, and it turns out that he and the bastard have a bit more in common than either would like to admit.//This is unfinished, and likely to stay that way. I had a whole lot planned but I haven't touched it in over a year so I figure it's not gunna happen. Take what I've got, cause I'm sick of it sitting all alone in my Google Drive. Hope you enjoy my starter lol





	1. Chapter 1

_ The syringe emptied into the muscle of his arm with a soft hiss. Slowly, slowly, gray eyes dragged across the room and settled hopelessly on the remains of a deck of coke. Just looking at it made his body ache in more ways than one. Sighing, he groped for the sat-phone and crumpled report left on the battered table that posed for a nightstand. While only a few days had passed since he’d first read the number, it felt like weeks in the state he was in. He wasn’t going anywhere soon, and if he didn’t hear something other than his own thoughts he may just be tempted to finish himself off. After the click of a few buttons, he dropped the phone onto the dingy mattress next to his head and listened to it ring. _

* * *

Jason Brody was bored.

He sighed his breath out and lined up a shot. With the squeeze of a trigger, a privateer’s head turned into a fine mist and the man next to him screamed. Jason felt no thrill from the successful shot. No adrenaline from the kickback of his rifle. Just a sarcastic _ huzzah _ in the back of his head. He didn’t really think of what that said about him, as he was far past caring. 

The fact of the matter is that this island was so _ easy _. The Privateers didn't look twice at his matching uniform, and he strolled along the road with a mere wave to the men he'd likely put a bullet through in a few days time. They were all told to look for him, sure, but none of them were trying too hard. Because of his new-found work with Sam, he had to keep a low profile. Unfortunately that meant allowing the Rakyat most of the credit for clearing out outpost after outpost. 

He hated to admit it, but he missed the pirates. He missed the panicked cries of _ Snow White! _ or _ Fuck! That's Brody! _ when they caught a glimpse of him in the trees, and Vaas’s increasingly dramatic attempts to kill him personally. Jason snorted at the thought. Fate must have been on his side, or at least far from Vaas’s. He almost pitied the pirate for how unlucky he was. _ Five times. _ Vaas tried to kill him _ five times _, and yet he had survived out of sheer stubbornness and luck. He almost missed the challenge. 

Jason shook the thought away. Fuck Vaas. Fuck him and his fucking pirates. They took away his brothers, Vincent, almost took his other friends. He may have crossed one too many lines to take them down, but they were far beneath him. These thoughts were only because it was behind him. He’d _ won _, Vaas is dead, and now he was going to finish cleaning up the trash. If he was getting bored dealing with Hoyt’s men, then he would just have to find a new way to entertain himself.

After taking a moment to load an incendiary round, Jason aimed not for the Privateer scanning the treeline but the molotov on the crate beside him. A quick _ POP _ and the now-flaming liquid caught the man’s clothes, and Jason snickered to himself as he writhed and tore at the fabric inferno. He watched in amusement until the fight was out of the privateer, having finally collapsed to the ground, before turning to reload his gun with normal bullets. 

The loud ring of the phone into his earpiece made him jump out of his skin.

After cursing and settling his heartrate, Jason pressed the little button to answer the call.  
  
“Hello?” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the outpost. He doubted anyone would hear him from this distance, and he wasn’t going to risk not answering, but he knew never to get too comfortable.   
  
“ _ Hermano! _ Man, am I glad to hear your voice!”

Jason’s blood ran cold. There was no mistaking that voice, even if it lacked some of its usual energy. 

“I wasn’t so sure when they gave me this number. ‘How could you have this number?’, I asked. ‘Hmm, how did you get this number?’ And they told me you stole the phone from one of our men. The first thing you did when you and your idiot brother got free was steal from me! Your balls are_ iron _, Snow White, I gotta hand it to ya-”

Few of the words were processing. Whether it be the nature of Vaas’s digressive ramblings, or the complete and utter shock that Jason was hearing it at all, it didn't matter. Vaas fucking Montenegro was _ alive _. 

“-but that's okay, hermano, the important thing is that I have you now. On my phone.”

“I killed you.”

There was half a moment's pause before Vaas broke out into laughter. Jason just listened, horrified, as the laughter lasted until it turned into a wheeze. 

“Jason, Jason, _ Jason _ ! You were so _ high _ , hermano, I'm sure you thought you killed me! That you watched the life bleed out of my eyes. I'm sure you thought every swing of that machete of yours hit home, but I'm sorry, I really am, hermano. I shot you up with too much, I just wanted you to _ SEE! _I WAS TRYING TO FREE YOU JASON-”

With a wince, he ripped the bluetooth from his ear and glared at it with all the fury that was bubbling up in his chest. He could still hear Vaas’s tirade in his hand, the sound of his yelling was so loud. When it went quiet, he returned it to his ear. 

“-not a good fight. Not a fair fight. Life isn't fair, hermano.”

Jason ran a hand over his face and manually relaxed the tension he had been building in his shoulders. 

“Are you done?” he asked, checking his scope to make sure that nobody had moved too close to the alarms. 

“I’m never done with you, Snow White. You and I are the same now, we-”

Jason hung up the call with the click of a button and turned back to the job at hand. One of the privateers was inching over to the alarm and another was squinting at the treeline in front of Jason. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the unsettling knowledge of Vaas’s survival behind him and peered through his scope. 


	2. Chapter 2

He was climbing a rusty ladder when his phone rang again. Jason answered it immediately, expecting Sam. 

“What the _ fuck _ is that whistling noise?”

Jason had to stop climbing, just for a few seconds, when the wave of loathing that rushed his system made his arms shake. Of course it was Vaas. There wasn't a second that he didn't think about the fact that he was alive out there somewhere. 

“The wind. I’m halfway up a radio tower. What do you want?” Jason spat, glaring at his hands while he ascended the last few rungs. He rested a hand on one of the steel beams while he adjusted to the sway of the structure. 

“_ Motherfucker _, were you the one wrecking all our scramblers?! Did you climb up every one of those towers, you PRICK?!”

Jason’s mouth pulled into a smug grin. It was incredibly satisfying to know that even the little things drove Vaas into a rage. He would have to remember this the next time they were face to face. 

“Before I hang up on you, tell me what happened on your island. What did you mean when you said you ‘shot me up’?” 

Jason had no interest in letting Vaas taunt him over the phone, but he wanted to know what the hell had happened that day. Vaas’s continued existence furthered the fear he had that the blurry, convoluted memories he had were not to be trusted. Of what he could remember, the clearest memories he had involved gutting the pirate. Obviously that wasn’t quite the truth.

“You seriously don’t remember? You _ really _ can’t hold your drugs, huh, white boy? A little recipe I stole from Citra a while back, I’m sure you’re familiar with it. Opens your _ mind _ , Jason. You _ see _ what you _ need _ to see. Are you blind, hermano? That would explain how you managed to miss me so many times. Only got the non-vital shit. Tore up my side though, you cocksucker.”

Ripping open the tower control box with a little too much force, Jason mulled on Vaas’s statement. Drugged. _ Drugged _ . When had he been..? A flash of Vaas plunging that ceremonial knife into his chest went through his mind, and he remembered the confusion he felt as he pulled it out of his chest. There was a spray of bright color and his vision had tunneled. He had fallen to the floor. It must have been then. There was no way Vaas, or he himself, had that knife, and there was no sign of a stab wound on his chest. What _ had _ happened? Jason snapped the circuit board in half and reset the switches to their normal state.

“Jason?”

Oh, right, Vaas was on the line still. He considered asking for more details, but decided against it. Part of him knew that getting a concise answer from the pirate was next to impossible and frankly he didn’t care enough. The bastard was still alive, that’s the point to be taken from all this, and he would remedy that soon enough. Jason hung up.  


* * *

Vaas had tried to call him repeatedly. At first, once every hour or so. And then twice. And then five or six times. Sam _ still _ hadn’t called him and it was putting him on edge. Every time the phone rang and it turned out to be this shithead, Jason’s trigger finger got twitchy. In fact, he had programmed Vaas’s number under the name ‘Shithead’ out of petty spite. There was also the fact that if his phone got stolen, he would be in deep shit once word got out that not only had he failed to kill Vaas, but had a history of frequent contact with him. Not good. So, Shithead it was.

Fortunately, for whatever reason, Vaas had yet to show his face. Jason had made some carefully worded inquiries and discovered that, all across the board, Vaas was considered dead.

Jason’s earpiece rang again. A glance at his phone revealed it was…. Vaas. It took a lot of self control not to fling his phone off the cliff he was sitting on. Instead, he answered it.

“What the _ FUCK _ do you want?!” he yelled. Vaas immediately started laughing, but managed to choke out an:

“Absolutely nothing, hermano.”

Jason crushed his thumb into the ‘end call’ button with such aggression that he managed to hit three different buttons around it at the same time.

A scant five seconds passed before Vaas called back, apparently not having stopped laughing during the brief interval. 

“DON’T YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO THAN ANNOY ME?!” 

Vaas stopped laughing very quickly. 

“You killed, burned, or stole everything that I had to do.”

Jason clenched his jaw, forcing back the myriad of retorts that came to mind. 

“Then _ why _ do you keep calling me?”

Vaas heaved a dramatic sigh and he heard a shuffling noise over the phone. 

“I’m _ booored _, Jason. Moving is not an option right now and I only managed to download so much porn onto your cellphone before your parents shut it off.”

“You did _ WHAT? _”

“Saving your credit card information to your browser isn't very safe, hermano. Good news: You are subscribed to many, many new porn sites. Bad news: I overcharged your card. A lot.”

Jason groaned and sent a silent prayer to the universe that his parents would assume his phone had been stolen. He had been kidnapped, after all. 

“Where are you? Everyone still thinks you're dead and I would like to prove them right.”

Asking was worth a try, at least. 

“Now you're asking the important things! I expected you to come for me the moment you picked up the phone! I'm very well hidden, Jason, don't get too excited. I have to deal with the chunk you took from my side first, so you just hang tight.”

A pause. 

“I might be willing to make a deal for some coke, though.”

Jason released a long suffering sigh.

“I’m dealing with Hoyt’s operation right now. I'll put you out of your misery once I'm done.”

Before Vaas could reply, a beeping sound in Jason’s ear announced another call coming in. Hanging up on the pirate once again, he answered the other line. 

“Sorry for the wait,” came Sam’s heavily accented voice, “An especially chatty recruit decided I needed company on my smoke break.”

“Gotta love the chatty ones,” Jason said sarcastically, deciding against chewing out the older man for worrying him like that. As Sam started in on the information he’d gleaned, Jason did his utmost to ignore the soft beeping of other incoming calls. 

* * *

When a full two days passed without his phone ringing, Jason had begun to believe that Vaas was done calling him. That, or he was dead. While convenient, Jason couldn't help feeling a bit of disappointment that his rival potentially died such an anticlimactic death. Bleeding out in bed was a pretty lame way to go, and he wanted to kill Vaas personally.

But when “Shithead” appeared on his phone in the middle of the night, waking him out of a dead sleep, Jason felt nothing but fury. Without hesitation, he hit answer.

“When I find you I am going to make your death _ excruciating _,” Jason hissed.

“That's nice, Jason,” Vaas said flatly, “Look, hermano, I know it's late but I just woke up from the grave and if you happen to have any coke on hand I will be happy to tell you where I am. No, find one of my men and give _ him _ the phone, it will save me the trouble of dealing with you. It's not like I'm going to be the one to kill you anyways, if you could-”

_ Click. _


	3. Chapter 3

For all of their organization and superior weaponry, the Privateers weren’t particularly smart. He hadn’t really thought about it at all, considering his goal tended to be turning them into pulp, until he had to put effort into blending in. It was easy. These guys were planning on screwing over _ Hoyt _ and yet they didn’t have any sort of security and had the nerve to collect a _ roll sheet _. Jason sincerely hoped that Hoyt never knew the details of this endeavor, or else he may not consider this little show of detective work all that impressive. Jason waved at someone who apparently thought they recognized him. Foster, the identity he’d assumed, had been a recruit, but Jason sincerely hoped that he hadn’t been chatty during orientation.

A beeping from his earpiece made him sigh. He wondered how long it would take for his brain to start blocking out the sound entirely. A glance at the screen revealed what he already knew; Vaas was calling. There were too many Privateers around to risk answering, and he doubted that Sam would need him anytime soon, so he turned the whole damn thing off. He knew from experience that the pirate would just keep calling, bothering him with that _ fucking _ ringing, until he answered. 

Word was that the meeting between the rebel Privateers and a group of now-leaderless pirates was going to take place up on the bridge. Jason had the bridge in sight, and just had to find a good spot to get photos of the Privateers involved. There was a mess of bridges and ziplines that could get him closer, but Jason wasn’t willing to risk calling too much attention to himself. So, he found himself at the end of this particular walkway ready for the meeting to go down. The meeting that should be happening soon.

Soon.

  
It did not happen soon.

In fact, he sat on that ledge for a solid thirty minutes before the boredom started eating at him. Jason had never been good at sitting still. He was an adrenaline junkie to the core, and all this _ nothing _was killing him. For a moment, he even considering chatting up one of the equally bored-looking Privateers nearby. Why were they hanging around anyways? It didn’t matter, and he decided against talking to them. There was always the chance of blowing his cover, and frankly it was harder to shoot someone he’d just been in conversation with.

With a sigh, Jason sat on the edge of the platform and dangled his legs over the side. When he reached for his tablet, which was buttoned into one of the many pockets of his stolen uniform, his fingers brushed against his phone. 

And it tempted him.

* * *

  


Jason tossed another rock off the ledge and counted the seconds until it hit the water with a _ sploosh _.

“And this motherfucker. This _ motherfucker _ had the nerve to call me a _ liar _ in front of Hoyt. I swear to God, Jason, if it weren't for the fact that he was Hoyt’s favorite captain I would have shot him right there.”

As it turned out, Vaas could tell a decent story when he was sober. 

“Did Hoyt believe him?”

Jason hated to indulge the pirate, but he was stuck waiting on these rickety platforms until his targets arrived and having someone to talk to made the time pass easier. He had tried to resist, he really had, but it had been so _ quiet _ and the inactivity made his skin itch.

“He did! At least until I had the pictures to show otherwise. If that ass-kissing little snake is still around, I want you to shoot him for me, Snow.”

Jason snorted.

“Chances are that I already have. What's he look- _ oh shit here they are. _”

Jumping up from his spot on the floorboards, Jason clambered onto some crates and turned on his camera. After a quick glance around, he eyed through his camera and started taking photos of everyone he could see. The group of Privateers looked nervous. None of them saw him, and fortunately the sun was behind him and therefore couldn't reflect off his lens. After he got a good number of face shots, Jason hopped down from the crate and started walking towards the meeting place. 

Then he heard the sound of their trucks turning on. _ Fuck! _They were leaving already! 

“_ Shit shit shit! _” 

Jason broke into a run towards them. He scoured the encampment for anything that could keep them in place. Shooting at them was stupid, they would just drive away. A privateer gave him a look as he sprinted past. 

“Hey, what-”

Jason skid to a halt at end of the walkway and saw the matte paint of a gun. 

It was a RPG. A loaded RPG. 

Vaas said something in his ear, but the beating of his own heart drowned it out. He had never shot one of these things but it was all he had. The sound of footfalls behind him added to the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he picked up the massive launcher. 

“Jesus, this is unwieldy…” he muttered, and took aim at the truck that the conspirators were climbing into. Jason pulled the trigger. 

Nothing happened.

“Fuck! _ Fuck! _ How the fuck do you shoot this thing??”

He whipped around and saw that the guard tailing him was about to turn the corner. 

“Shoot what?” came Vaas’s voice, and Jason didn't even care about his pride in that moment. 

“I've got a fucking RPG! It’s loaded but it won't fire!”

The guard whipped around the corner and pulled a gun on him.

“Put that fucking down! Who the hell are you?!”

Jason did the first thing that came to mind and pointed the thing at the guard, whose face immediately went pale. 

“You turned the safety off, right?”

“_ There's a safety on a RPG??” _

Sure enough, there was a little switch on the side. Jason flipped it, turned to the truck, and pulled the trigger in one movement. He jumped over the railing right as the Privateer opened fire. 

“_ WHOOOOO!!! _” he yelled, stretching his arms and catching the air with his wingsuit. The truck above him blew up with a roar as he sailed away through the gorge. His head swam with the exhilaration and the force of the wind on his face. The panicked yelling echoed off the walls of the gorge, but he could barely hear it over his own laughter. 

“The first time I shot one of those, I was hard for a week.” 

Jason didn't stop laughing when he responded with a “Shut the fuck up, Vaas.”


	4. Chapter 4

Riley is _ alive. _

Jason scrubbed his little brother’s blood off his hands and tried not to throw up. He was so close. So _ close _ to purging this fucking island of its filth. Riley knew he was coming, that he would get him home. The look of fear in his eyes made him sick, but Jason reminded himself that it was _ necessary _. Every bullet, every grenade, it was all so he could get his friends home. Citra made him a warrior, and he owed it to her to finish the job he started. Once he was done he could get everyone off the island. 

Jason splashed the cool spring water onto his face and took a deep breath. He focused on the slide of water and tried to slow his thoughts. Whether he would go with them was a decision for later. He had to play it cool for a while, wait for Sam to get him an audience with Hoyt. Thinking too far ahead was only a distraction. He breathed in the muggy jungle air, letting it fill his lungs. The smell of earth and _ life _calmed him, the clear pool of water his hands dangled in soothed his worries. 

The bluetooth in his ear rang. Jason glanced at the name on the phone, knowing that it wasn't going to be Sam, and immediately turned it off. He pulled the earpiece out and pocketed it. 

Citra. He hadn't seen her in a while. Just the thought of those pretty gray eyes boring into him, the slow dance of her hips, made his head swim. Maybe he should visit the main island while he waited….

* * *

Fingers danced across his arm and sent little thrills across his skin. Citra sat beside him, bathed in the warm glow of torchlight, watching him with those beautiful eyes. Jason could stare at her for hours. It was entirely possible that he already had. She ladled more of her strong smelling tea into their cups and the scent filled the entire courtyard, flavoring the air. He could understand why they claimed her a warrior goddess. Citra was beautiful and enchanting, with incredible danger lurking behind it all. She was truly born from the jungle.

“What are you thinking about, my warrior?” she asked, bringing him from his thoughts with a teasing poke at his newest tattoo. 

“Are you actually a goddess?”

She looked surprised for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. She sounded amused, and he had no idea if there was an answer to interpret from it.

“What do you think?”

Jason was a little overwhelmed by the question. He was not a religious person, really. But despite all he had seen, all he had done and experienced, it was hard to wrap his head around the idea of this very real woman being something _ else _. Then again, he had difficulties wrapping his head around any of the crazy shit he'd seen here. 

“I don't think it matters if you are,” he says carefully, “I think it matters that the Rakyat believe it.”

There was a flash of something in her eyes, and the smile she gave him brimmed with something he couldn't name.

“That was a clever answer, Jason Brody.” She took a sip of her tea before continuing.

“How goes the reclamation of the south island? I have heard news from others, but I want to hear from you.”

Jason pulled out his tablet to help show the progress they were making.

“We have cleaned out most of the port towns and are pushing inwards. Hoyt’s base of operation is in the center, here.” he pointed to the location on the map and pulled up the photos he had taken of the surroundings, “I am working with someone on the inside, and we plan to go after Hoyt directly once we win his trust.”

Looking up at Citra, he got a glimpse of an eerily familiar expression on her face, just for a moment. When her eyes landed on his, however, the look of sadistic glee that he saw was gone, and Jason figured he must have imagined it.

“You are incredible,” she breathed, and then touched the side of his face with the softest of kisses. Jason felt the world spin as he processed the praise and the arousal that shot through him.

“You are my _ chosen _.”

* * *

Sam had called him shortly after he left Citra’s temple. Apparently, Hoyt had to make an emergency visit to somewhere unspecified, and had left two of his lieutenants in charge of day-to-day operations while he was gone. Sam assured him that Hoyt would be back shortly, and that it did little but prolong their plans. However, he had been tasked with a handful of cleanup jobs involving more of the pirates. It seemed that Vaas’s “death”, and the complete lack of a second-in-command to replace him, had resulted in the group fracturing into a squabbling mess of competing factions. And nothing good came from a bunch of bickering, drug-addled assholes with guns.

Jason promised Sam that he’d help him out in a day or two, but that he was caught up with business on the north island. It wasn’t a complete lie, he was busy, but it mostly involved doing petty jobs for locals in trade for cheap ammo. Jason was pretty sure he was single-handedly causing the inflation of sniper rounds. 

He had hijacked an ATV and was on his way back to a nearby village. He had the freshly dead corpse of a rare cassowary strapped to the back of the quad. When his phone rang, he answered without thinking.

“_ JASON! _” 

Oh, that was a poor decision. Vaas sounded a lot more…. manic... than he had recently. A bit more in tune with the side of Vaas he’d been familiar with pre-stabbing.

“Jason, I have a question for you, hermano, and I_ expect _ you to fucking answer it, okay? Who is doing your tatau? I thought it was Citra back when I tried to set you and your girlfriend on fire. What happened to her anyways? Whatever. _ Answer me _, Jason, who is doing your ink? I know it’s not Citra. I know her work and that is not hers.”

He sighed. Well, he was stuck now.

“A guy named Dennis.”

“Dennis? Dennis. I _ know _ that name, who is he? What does he look like?”

He didn’t expect that. How long had Dennis been around? With a twinge of guilt, Jason realized that he hadn’t really bothered to get to know the guy, other than what information had been given unprovoked.

“Uh, hippie-looking black guy with big glasses? Thick accent?”

“_ That _ motherfucker! I remember him, he was one another one of you poor fucks that Citra sent after me. How many has she gone through now, huh? I left him alive, I remember. Watched him run back to Citra, run back to Citra with his tail between his fucking legs. What does he do now, Jason, huh? He’s Citra’s _ BITCH! _ A BITCH FOR A BITCH!”

Jason raised his hand to hang up the phone before Vaas worked himself up to the point of incoherence. The fact that Vaas himself paused surprised him, however, and his hand stilled. 

There was a loud suck of breath over the line and it clicked.

“Are you _ high _?”

“_ You got a FUCKING problem with that? _ You know, Jason, you know I really don't like the way you fucking talk to me, okay? Alright, I’ve been warning you this whole FUCKING TIME, been warning you that you're- that you're still lost in your fucking rat maze- and I even stopped trying to kill you, I realized I _ can’t _ kill you, but you..! No no no no, _ please _ . _ You _ , motherfucker, still STABBED ME! I like you, Snow White, you and I are the same, hermano, but I _ feel like _ you don't fucking respect me. Don't respect what I am TRYING to _ do for you! _”

There was the sound of Vaas doing another rail. Jason knew he should hang up, but a niggling thought in his head wouldn't let him. Something about Vaas’s rambling commanded his attention.

“You know what? You know, actually, _ fuck you _, Jason. This is the last time, alright? You can't say I didn't try, hermano. I've given you more than I ever fucking had.”

Jason stayed quiet while Vaas caught his breath. 

“You going to say anything?”

“You sound a lot crazier when you're high,” Jason sniped, knowing that he was brushing off everything that had been said.

“I’m not- I’m going to- _ fucking- _”

Click.

Jason laughed before he could stop himself. The fact that he'd managed to piss Vaas off enough to actually hang up on _ him _ for a change felt like an accomplishment. It was shortly followed by the itch of guilt. He was pretty sure that under all the blustering, Vaas had actually been trying to communicate something. While he knew he shouldn't really give a shit, this was _ Vaas _ after all, he could sympathize with the frustration of failing to get a point across.

Reaching a crossroads, Jason checked the map on his tablet. He took a right towards the little town he was aiming for, and thought about what to do next. This cassowary should get him a good chunk of cash. In a compromise for Sam, he figured he should only take jobs that push him farther southwest. At least then, if his presence becomes necessary, he'll be relatively close. As it stood, he was on the eastern coast. 

When Jason rolled into the little fishing village, he saw some of the locals talking to a couple Rakyat warriors. When they caught sight of him, they waved him over.

“Jason! Can you do us a favor?”

He hopped off his ATV and joined the group.

“What's going on?”

One of the locals, looking a little desperate, took the opportunity to explain. 

“A few people have seen a stranger around the edge of town. They don't look Rakyat, and rumors are spreading of a pirate attack.”

“There's only three of us posted here,” one of the Rakyat said apologetically, “If they are planning on attacking, we can't risk sending even one out to check the surroundings.”

Jason knew where this was going, and got straight to the point.

“Have they been seen coming from one area? Are there any places nearby that they could hole up in?”

Another local gestured west, towards the hills.

“There's a few shacks alongside the mountain roads. Most are empty.”

“They couldn't house more than two or three people,” a warrior added, “but there's no reason to believe there's many pirates, anyways.”

Jason did a mental check of his supplies before he agreed to anything. He was out of sniper rounds, and low on SMG ammo, but had plenty of shotgun shells. The one guy was probably right, it didn't seem like there was a big group, if any. He could take care of that with what he had, as long as he was cautious.

“Alright,” he agreed, “I’ll check it out on my way west. If there's anybody skulking around, I'll take care of it.”

* * *

After trading in that cassowary and scrounging up spare ammo from people in town, Jason head towards the mountains. He made the decision to leave the quad at the base of the hill, not wanting to alert anyone with the sound of the engine, and he found himself actually hoping that he'd have someone to shoot. If he had to walk up these cliffside roads for nothing, he was not going to be happy. 

The map that Willis had supplied him with, paired with the information that he'd entered in himself, gave Jason a pretty good idea of where these shacks were. A few sets of footprints lead up the road. Unlike the privateers, with their standard surplus boots, it was impossible to tell if the prints were from pirates or not. He'd seen one in a pair of Converse once, and it wasn't a stretch to imagine that they were stolen off one of the other ransomed tourists that had fallen into Vaas’s trap.

Jason’s calves burned by the time he made it to the little house. One set of tracks, a pair of boots, veered towards it. Slowing his walk, Jason checked his shotgun and crept closer. He couldn't hear any movement through the open windows, but that didn't mean he should let his guard down.

Careful steps brought him to the door. The wood creaked beneath his feet and he winced. 

Still no sounds from inside.

Jason tucked the gun into his shoulder and leaned into the doorway. He poked his head in for just a second, getting a glance at the room. There was someone on the bed, not moving. A slow breath to calm his nerves, and Jason was ready. 

Shotgun ready, Jason stepped into the house. One, two, steps forward and the figure on the bed sat up. Red shirt. Pirate. Jason’s trigger finger twitched. But he didn't fire. 

Because he recognized the face that he was aiming at. 

It was Vaas’s face. 

Time crawled as he stood there, shocked, staring at the face of his rival.

Vaas shook like a leaf, but a grin crept across his face. 

“_ Well? _ Are you going to fucking shoot me or what?”

Jason couldn't stop staring. There was something off about the pirate. His body screamed at him to pull the trigger and get it over with, but there was something about the way Vaas was looking at him that didn't sit right. Pupils blown wide, arms shaking where they held him upright, the beads of sweat running down his arms. 

“_ Answer me, Snow White! _ You aren't just going to leave me hanging, huh? Okay, I know we left off on a bad note, hermano, but I thought we had a bit of a rapport going.”

The lack of aggression was unsettling. Jason felt the adrenaline slowing in his system. He still had his shotgun ready, but he felt no threat from Vaas. Every interaction before had set off his fight-or-flight response full force, except this.

“We don't have a _ rapport _, asshole,” Jason snapped.

The call. Vaas’s behavior. His eyes glanced around, and saw the hastily done lines of cocaine on the bedside table. He looked back over at Vaas, who was panting, and his eyes couldn't seem to pick a place to land. As the pieces fit together, Jason felt disgust roiling in his gut. 

“Are you _ overdosing?? _”

Vaas’s eyes narrowed. He looked gaunt, like he hadn't been eating well. Beneath the tattered red tank was the bulk of what had to be bandaging. Had he been just _ laying here _ for days?

“The fuck do you care?”

And then he felt rage.

“Are you _ fucking kidding me?! _ You survive getting stabbed, but you just turn around and lay here, drowning yourself in drugs like a fucking junkie? Look at yourself, you're a complete mess!” 

Jason lowered the shotgun and gripped his hair with a free hand. 

“You're goddamn _ pathetic _ , how was I ever _ afraid _ of you??”

“That's rich coming from _ you _ !” There was an almost imperceptible slur to Vaas’s voice, “Like this whole FUCKING thing isn't the biggest high you've ever had in your _ life!” _

Jason’s head was spinning. He hadn't expected to find _ Vaas _, of all people. He hadn't expected to find Vaas strung out and completely fried. Laying in bed as the drugs ate away his nervous system, looking for one last high now that his power has been stripped from him. Top of his game one day and a dying nobody the next; lacking the strength to even sit upright. 

“If you die here, will anyone recognize you? Will you get thrown into the pits with all the other nobodies you've killed? Is that all your accomplishments will amount to? Can you even stand to defend yourself? You _ disgust _ me.”

Vaas sat up fully. His body shook from the exertion, but it gave the rage in his eyes a new level of intensity. 

“Oh, did I ruin your _ warrior fantasy _ , white boy?! Was killing me the climax of your _ little movie? _ Is this not SATISFYING?!”

Jason dropped his gun and stepped forward.

“_ Get the fuck up _.”

“SHOOT ME OR GET _ THE FUCK _ OUT!”

Vaas’s manic eyes locked onto his defiantly, but he was in no shape to stand. Jason couldn't stomach the sight of him. Was this really the man that had killed his brother? That hunted and haunted him for weeks? This pitiful display was sickening, and without thinking he ripped open his bag and threw his med kit at the pirate’s chest. Vaas flinched from it, but his reactions were slow, and it bounced off him with a dull _ thump _. He managed to open it with his shaking hands, and stared down at the collection of syringes and bandages in disbelief. 

“_ What the fuck is this _?”

“Pull your shit together so I can kill you like a fucking man.” Jason snapped, “And stay away from town unless you want to get shot.”

He took a step back, intending to flee the emotional whirlwind he was in, but stopped when he remembered why he was here. 

“Were you the one spotted around town?”

Vaas dropped his gaze to the med kit and picked up a syringe to read. 

“Probably.”

The shaking of his hands made Jason cringe just watching, as the pain of a botched needle jab was something he knew well. He hoped it fucking hurt. 

“Why?”

Vaas pressed on the plunger and gestured weakly at the cocaine on his table. Within just those few seconds, the tremors started to slow. Jason forced back the twinge of unwanted pity he felt and turned for the door. 

“If I catch word of you showing your ugly face, I'll put a bullet in your head no matter how fucked up you are.”

“What's stopping you from shooting me right now?” Vaas sneered. As the depressants worked their magic on him, he started to look less like a rabid predator and more like a half starved rat.

Jason flipped him off and walked out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

“Took you long enough!”

Sam was leaning against his beloved mounted Jeep with a big grin across his face. Jason shrugged, unapologetic, and returned the grin when Sam raised a hand. It was hard not to roll his eyes the first few times he’d gone for a high-five, but it was growing on Jason. There was a playfulness to the gesture that was hard to find on Rook. Jason wound up and gave Sam a slap that left his hand stinging. 

“Kleine Scheiße…” he hissed and shook his hand off. Jason snickered and climbed into the passenger seat, kicking his feet up onto the dash. 

“Where are we heading?”

Sam started up the car and pointed out the spot on his battered GPS. It was one of the abandoned docks closest to the north island. 

“Some of the guys monitoring the pirate radio frequencies caught word of a rogue group planning to ambush one of the port outposts. It doesn't sound like they know it's not under our control and the Lieutenant wants to keep their munitions out of Rakyat hands.”

“Hoyt knows their frequencies?”

Sam gave him a ‘_ are you serious? _’ look and Jason realized that he really must be underestimating the control Hoyt had over the islands.

“Any idea of how many pirates are left? We've secured most of the major settlements on the north island, but obviously there are still stragglers.”

“There's no way to know. Vaas burned most of his records when you came after him, and all his known confidants are dead.”

Jason winced at the mention of Vaas and that mess of a confrontation. Sam noticed. 

“Don't let that sit on your conscience,” he placated, “You've done more than anyone could have asked.”

“Thanks.” Jason muttered, allowing Sam to keep his assumption. Part of him wanted to tell Sam that Vaas survived, that he was still alive, and to ask what the fuck was wrong with him for not amending that. Jason stared out at the horizon, watching the sun set over the northern islands. He could barely make out the shape of the island that Dr. Earnhardt’s mansion sat on, and wondered what his friends were up to. Working on the boat? Sampling the doctor’s most recent concoction and dreaming of better times?

“How long have you been here, Sam?”

“A few years. I was assigned to integrate in way before Willis was sent.”

How long had he been here? A month? Maybe two. He'd lost track of the days as soon as it sunk in that the day of the week really didn't matter. Jason couldn't imagine being here for _ years _. 

“How do you get back from this?” he asked, wincing at how the crack in his voice, “Who would I be off the islands?”

He kept his eyes trained firmly on the distance, but he could see Sam turn to him from the corner of his vision. The older man had that look of sincere concern that he'd always associated with Grant. Jason couldn't say he liked being looked at like some inexperienced kid, but he also couldn't deny he appreciated the sympathy. It felt like Sam was the only other sensible person on Rook sometimes, and Jason begrudgingly admitted to himself that he looked up to the guy.

“Something’s bothering you.”  
  
“Vaas is alive.”   
  
He hated to admit it out loud, but obviously it was true, and if shit hit the fan he figured he could count on Sam’s support. It felt good to get off his chest, even as the other man was giving him a bewildered look.   
  
“What? How? Are you sure?”   
  
“He started calling me a week or two ago, taunting me for failing to kill him. I found out where he’s hiding on accident.”   
  
He noticed that Sam had slowed their speed. Another car full of privateers weaved around them with a wave, which Sam entirely ignored in favor of staring at Jason. There was no hostility or distrust in his look, but he was clearly confused.   
  
“And you didn’t kill him?”   
  
Jason squirmed in his seat and picked at one of the straps holding his kevlar on. How did he explain that whole disaster? He could barely rationalize it to himself, really. Something had hit a nerve, looking at what had become of Vaas, and addressing it led to all kinds of discomfort.   
  
_ Like this isn’t the biggest high you’ve had in your life! _   
  
“I guess he got into my head,” he muttered guiltily, “I haven’t heard that he’s been in contact with anyone else. He was just laying around getting high, waiting for his wounds to heal.”   
  
Great, now he was replaying the whole thing in his head again. It was easier to sift through now that he was distanced from the panic of the moment. Jason should have just killed him, saved himself all this dwelling. There had just been something horribly familiar in that manic look he had. Like uppers replaced something something Vaas wasn’t getting naturally anymore. Shooting him felt uncomfortably like foreshadowing.   
  
“Sympathy for the devil?” Sam joked, an understanding smirk on his face. Jason sighed a little at the word choice, but he was incredibly relieved by Sam’s response.   
  
“Something like that.”   
  
Jason was half tempted to tell Sam that he was a good dude, but the way he picked up speed shut him up. Seemed to be that he thought the conversation had reached its end. That’s probably for the best.   
  
They spent the rest of the ride in silence. It wasn’t a bad silence. The sun was finally down and the breezes on the southern island weren’t as muggy as its counterpart. As Sam pulled off the main road and towards the docks, Jason started getting excited. He tapped his fingers restlessly on his gun, squinting out into the black water in search for the landing party.   
  
When they reached the downward slope towards the beach, Sam turned off the engine. They rolled down to the docks in complete darkness. Jason’s eyes slowly adjusted to the black, and he could almost make out the vague shapes of the shacks and crumbling pier.   
  
“Get on the turret and watch the coast,” Sam whispered, and Jason grunted in assent. He climbed over the car and onto the gun’s platform.   
As quietly as possible, he prepped and loaded the turret. Below him, he heard Sam get out of the vehicle and ready his own gun. There was the click of a button and Sam muttered something into his radio, likely letting HQ know that he was in position. 

Jason leaned over the gun and stared out at the water. The moon was barely a sliver, and he wondered if that was part of the pirates’ plan. Moonlight flickered on the waves, the only indication that the ocean wasn't just a vast span of black. In the far, far distance he could see lights on the southern island. Jason's eyes strained to see anything in all the darkness. 

He was starting to get restless when he heard Sam hiss his name. Squinting out at the beach, he made out a faint glinting not far from the shore. Something was reflecting the moon, just a tiny bobbing glimmer, and the water rippled around it. 

“Wait until they reach land,” Sam whispered. Jason turned the turret to face about where they would land. It was impossible to tell how many there were, how many people, how many boats. When it came down to it, however, the turret made it irrelevant. Jason widened his stance, wrapped his hands around the gun, and felt his mouth pull into a grin. The adrenaline was kicking in, fueled by the thrill of being behind something so powerful.

Jason could hear when they reached the shore by the scraping of rubber on sand. Someone jumped into the water to drag a boat, and Jason swiveled to aim at them. 

“Now.”

Jason pulled the trigger and the world became chaos. Bullets rained down on the arriving pirates, and they were met with screams of terror. Blinding flashes from the muzzle of the gun lit the world in a strobe. Amidst the deafening sound of gunfire, he could make out the sounds of bullets hitting metal, sand, rubber, and most importantly, _ flesh _. Spreading his fire, he made a wide sweep of the shore before he had to stop to let the gun cool.

They could hear panicked whispering, once the ringing of the machine gun faded, and somebody cocked a shotgun. 

Jason scrambled off the turret only seconds before a blast hit the side of the truck. 

“_ Fuck, _ you alright, Jason?” he heard Sam call softly.

“I’m fine,” he replied, and fumbled for a grenade in the dark.

Another shot hit the side of the car. Based on where it hit, he could estimate where the asshole with the shotgun was. He grinned victoriously, pulled the pin, and gave the grenade a toss. There was a dull thump when it hit the sand.

Three… Two… One… The grenade went off and there was an agonized scream.

Peering around the car, Jason scoured the beach for any signs of movement. He almost laughed when he saw the two huddled behind a stack of old fishing crates, as if those provided any sort of cover. Jason raised his beloved Shredder and took careful aim.

Sam took them out before he could pull the trigger, and Jason felt a snap of disappointment. 

“Aw, c’mon, I had them,” he whined without thinking.

“Don't be a baby, Jason,” Sam replied, just a little too loud. 

_ “Oh shit, did he say Jason?” _

_ “Man, if that's Brody we’re _ ** _fucked_ ** _ !” _

Elation hit him like a tidal wave and his mouth was moving before he could stop it.

“Hiya, fellas!” 

Sam cursed and tugged Jason away from the vehicle. The sound of a grenade hitting the dirt should have concerned him, but Jason was still trying not to laugh about the reputation he had so sorely missed. They made it halfway to the old shack before the explosion knocked them to the ground. 

Dazed, he stumbled the last few feet to the side of the shack. Jason turned to check on Sam, but froze when he heard something move inside the rickety old structure. He heard Sam’s gun go off a few feet away, and figured he had it under control.

Leaning around the corner, he could see a pirate peeking outside the door, AK-47 in hand. Jason jumped forward. He ripped the gun out of the pirate’s hands and crushed his elbow into the man’s nose. The pirate stumbled back, swearing as blood poured from his face, and the moment he saw Jason, he flung his arms up in surrender.

“Fuck, dude, I won’t-”

Jason whipped out his handgun and put a bullet between his eyes.

The pirate’s body crumpled, and Jason turned to leave before any survivors came to investigate. Sam was leaning against the door, rifle in hand, and _ looking _ at him.

“That was callous,” he stated, when Jason’s stare demanded he speak.

“If I didn't kill him, he would just come back for me later,” Jason explained, a little confused by Sam’s subtle disapproval. Besides, these scumbags were barely worth the bullet he spent. He was doing these damn islands a favor. Sam, of all people, should understand that. It's not like he’d left them to _ bleed out _ or anything. That was just inhumane. 

(For just a second, he remembered what he’d hallucinated having done to Vaas and had a fleeting churn of guilt in his chest)

Sam seemed to accept his answer, or at least was willing to drop it, for he nodded back out into the darkness and said:

“That was the last one. Let's gather their munitions and get out of here.”

With the threat gone, Sam started the car back up and flicked on the headlights. They scoured the beach for the corpses they'd made, lit by the yellow glow of the lights, and stole all the weapons and ammo they could find. Keeping the bullets for themselves, they loaded the rest onto the boat and shoved it back out into the water. The holes Jason had blown in the thick rubber fated the boat for a watery grave, along with its supply of guns on board. It was best to keep it out of both pirate and privateer hands. Sam radioed in to HQ, giving a brief summary, and was summoned back to the Compound for a full report.

“I’ll walk to the nearest Rakyat outpost,” Jason said, not wanting to push their luck by dwelling in the Compound more than necessary. 

Sam nodded appreciatively. 

“I'll call you once I have our next move planned out. With Hoyt out of town, everything is running a little different.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jason replies, and holds his hand out for a farewell shake.

Sam takes it enthusiastically, giving him a grin.

“Hoyt will be ours in no time!” he assured, optimistic as always, “And Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“The best thing you can do for yourself is to get the fuck off of these islands.”


	6. Chapter 6

Jason took a deep breath, emptied his lungs, and heaved. He made it to his feet despite the burning of his thighs, and got a mildly impressed look from one of the younger Rakyat. Careful of his steps, Jason carried the corpse slung over his back to the pile they were making. 

Hoyt will come home to a very different island than the one he had left. The two lieutenants he had left in charge were not incompetent, but they were ambitious and prideful. The lack of communication between the two made the remaining outposts vulnerable, with reinforcements and supplies subtly held hostage by the ego and machismo of their controllers. It was an opportunity that Jason and the Rakyat were eager to exploit. And, to be frank, Jason was getting impatient. His brother was still in there. God knows what Hoyt was going to do with him.   
  
Jason let the body slip off his shoulder and onto the rest of them. He stepped back to avoid getting splashed by whatever accelerant one of the warriors was drenching the pile in. The strong smell of… whiskey?... took him by surprise. 

“Is that alcohol?” he asked, curious now.

The Rakyat man grinned at him.

“Why waste the gas? There's enough of this swill around to burn down the whole island.”

Jason chuckled. The guy had a point. A beep alerted him to an incoming call, so Jason stepped away and answered it.

“S’up, Sam.”

“Who the fuck is Sam?”

Jason jolted. It had been days since Jason had stumbled over Vaas, and the pirate hadn't called him once. While he wasn't optimistic enough to think Vaas had died, he also hadn't expected the harassing calls to start back up either.

“Nobody.” he snapped. “What do you want?”

“Your iTunes password.”

Pacing around a bush, Jason kept his eyes on the warriors around him. They knew he was posing as a privateer, so he doubted they would find suspicion in him taking private calls, but that didn't keep him from being on edge. These calls were really not something he wanted getting out into the rumor mill. God knows what Citra would do if she found out. 

“You're still screwing with my phone? Isn't it turned off, anyways?”

“I swapped out the SIM card.” Vaas explained casually, “Tell me your password, cocksucker! I want to watch your movies.”

“If I tell you, will you stop bothering me?” 

“Sure, sure.” 

Jason sighed. He _ really _ didn't like the idea of Vaas playing around on his phone, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He had, after all, left it unlocked to appease Liza, so it was his fault that Vaas could get into it in the first place. 

“Alright,” he said reluctantly, “It's c8dAqqZ%.”

There was a pause, and he heard the faint clicks of the keyboard.

“It worked!” Vaas exclaimed, a bizarrely earnest giddiness in his voice. Jason rolled his eyes and hoped to god it would entertain the asshole enough to keep him from snooping too much. He had more than a few photos of Liza that he'd rather Vaas not get to see. 

“_ Jason _ ! You _ motherfucker _! You have Kick-Ass!”

That was too much excitement. That was a suspicious amount of excitement.

“And?”

“This could be the last movie Chris was ever in! I killed McLovin’, did you know that? I got to kill him myself and now I have his final masterpiece in my hand.”

Jason was completely lost. Vaas killed somebody from a movie? McLovin? _ What _? To his chagrin, Jason found himself dragged into a conversation again. Fuck. What was it about Vaas’s inability to make a straight point that kept him stuck like this?

“Who? What?”

“_ Christopher Mintz-Plasse. _ The actor. Hey, why do you have _ so fucking many _ war movies? Are you trying to put me to sleep?”

Somebody not far away tried to get his attention. Vaas muttered something about _ self-righteous colonizers _, but Jason wasn't listening. He gestured at his earpiece and held up a finger to say he'd be just a minute.

“I'm busy destroying your boss, I have to go. Enjoy your movies, dickhead,” Jason said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Bye, motherfucker.”

Rolling his eyes, he hung up the phone and made his way over to the group he was with. 

“Sorry about that,” he surveyed the area, checking the status of the newly-acquired outpost. “How is it looking? Need anything before I head out?”

“Most of what we need we can get from the supply routes,” one of the Rakyat replied.

“If you're feeling ambitious, the east building could support a mounted machine gun,” another chimed in, “Get one from a privateer truck and we’d be secure facing the Front.”

Jason glanced over at the building, a sturdy concrete leftover from before the Collapse, if he were to guess.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

With a wave and a farewell, Jason loaded his gear onto the banged-up Jeep he rode in on. As he pulled out onto the road, he fastened his tablet to the GPS stand and marked the outpost as claimed, with a note for the request of a machine gun. He called Dennis next. The Rakyat primarily used radio to communicate, but Jason had instructed them to downplay, if not entirely forgo mentioning, his involvement in case Hoyt’s men had knowledge of their radio channels. Calling Dennis over the satellite phone allowed for added security, as well as the credit that he deserved. 

“Greetings, Jason! I hear your latest conquest was successful?”

“Did you expect anything less?” he teased. Despite the playful tone, he couldn't deny that the arrogance he was developing was both truthful and justified. 

Dennis snorted, amused.

“I suppose not. What is the state of the outpost?”

“It's not very well protected, but the buildings are sturdy and can be fortified with a bit of work. Some of the warriors suggested we mount a machine gun on one of the concrete buildings.”

“That's not a bad idea,” Dennis mused, “I’ll pass that along the supply routes. Anything else?”

Jason racked his brain for anything else he might need to pass along. He'd already given a rundown of his and Sam’s gameplan for Hoyt’s absence, and there was only so much Dennis could do from the north island. Jason’s mind drifted to Dennis himself, and he found himself more than a little curious about his past.

“How long have you been part of the Rakyat?”

Jason hoped that Dennis didn't mind the questioning. Despite being rather obviously smitten with Citra, the man seemed to hold no ill will towards him and had served as a mentor when Jason first came to the islands.

“A few years now. Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity,” Jason replied vaguely, not wanting to imply anything near to the truth; Vaas sowed the seeds of suspicion that had been rattling in his head.

“Did you have to fight Vaas and his pirates?”

There was a bit of a pause.

“Yes. They had less territory then, but were more concentrated as a result,” there was hesitation in Dennis’s voice, 

“The timing of your arrival was fortunate. The pirates are spread thin.”

Jason could tell he was pushing a boundary, which only made him more curious. He took a moment to pick through Dennis’s responses, particularly the last one. He didn't know what exactly, but Dennis was touching on something there. Was it a dig at his unchallenged success? The hint of some belief in a higher power? It was impossible to tell. 

“I guess so,” Jason replied amicably. Clearly, interrogations were not his forte. He decided to drop it for another time, when he wasn't just blindly groping for reassurance. It was hard not to suspect everyone of wrong-doing when he himself spent his days bluffing an entire organization. 

“Well,” he continued casually, “Unless there's anything you need, I'm going to get back to it.”

“Good luck, Jason.”


End file.
